


You are all Weirdos!

by LileNoire



Category: The Muppet Show, The Muppets - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LileNoire/pseuds/LileNoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Muppet Drabbles, old and new, collected into one big mush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Perfect Woman

Floyd plucked a few strings on his bass, tightening them as he did so, keeping a keen ear out for the right note. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back in his chair, propped his feet on the coffee table and began playing a few relaxed tunes. He closed his eyes and sighed contently.

“AHHH!”

Floyd jerked in shock and fell off his chair. After cursing every name under the sun, he stiffly got up. Only to find one of his strings had broken.

Muttering, he reached for his case. At least there was a spare. He slumped on a beanbag and set to work, ignoring the noises of the diva pig's latest drama downstairs. He was almost finished when Janice entered, holding an ice pack to her forehead.

“Whoa, babe! What happened to you?”

“Oh, rully!” She sighed, then sat down and leaned on his side. “I told Miss Piggy that her new dress from the catalogue was still too small.”

Floyd looked at her sceptically.

“Well, actually I said she, like, looked more like an overstuffed sausage roll and then….oh, y’know!”

Floyd laughed as he played some riffs and Janice rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s my girl!”


	2. Oi, you Muppet!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kermit and Fozzie try to find their way around London.

"Wow! London’s changed quite a lot since we were here last time, Kermit!”

Kermit nodded in agreement, as he studied a map. “Okay, Fozzie. Just turn left at the road coming up!”

“Yes, sir! Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Fire away!”

“What kind of interview are we doing anyway? Is it for a magazine or a show…?”

“No, Fozzie. It’s a live interview on Radio One. Some guy called…uh…Chris…um…something-or-other.”

“Mayers?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Moyles?”

“That’s the one! Be careful at the round-a-bout, Fozzie.”

“What? Oh, I hate these things! I can never figure out which lane to take!”

“Relax, Fozzie. Just go on the outside lane and turn left into the first road!”

“Yes sir!”

“Indicators, Fozzie!”

“I knew that!”

They went on like this for a few more minutes, the frog giving out instructions and the bear obediently obeying. Everything seemed to be fine until the car came to an abrupt halt.

“Uh-oh!”

Kermit looked up to Fozzie’s paled expression. “What? What was that ‘uh-oh’ for, Fozzie?” he asked, suspiciously. “

Oh, nothing Kermit! I didn’t ‘uh-oh’ for anything!”

“Oh, good!” He went back to his map and then added, “Why aren’t we moving?”

“Well, it may have something to do with that!” Fozzie pointed to a sign that said, ‘ONE WAY’. Suddenly, Kermit was beside himself.

“WHAT?! Fozzie! We’re on the wrong street!”

“Kermit, please don’t be mad! I was just following your instructions!”

“WELL I AM MAD, FOZZIE!”

“Well, maybe if we got a cab-”

“I TOLD YOU WE DON’T HAVE MONEY FOR A CAB! WHAT, DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE SPEWING MONEY, FOZZIE?! HUH?!”

Before Fozzie could try to defend himself again, a loud honk made him jump.

“Oi, you Muppet! Get moving! Don’t you know this is a one way street!?” 

The two Muppets stuck their heads out to the cab driver behind them.

“Jus-just a second sir! We shouldn’t be too long!”

Admittedly, Fozzie had expected the cab driver to shout some more, which he would not have liked. He didn’t, however, expect to driver to stare him down in rigid shock for about ten seconds, then make a careful U-turn out the other direction, all the while not taking his eyes off the bear.

They sat back down. After an awkward pause, Fozzie spoke.

“What the heck was that all about?”

Kermit shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Apparently when someone calls someone a ‘Muppet’ in London…um….they mean it as an insult.”

Fozzie raised his eyebrows. “Wait? That was meant to be an insult!?”

“Just drive, Fozzie.”

“Yes sir!”


	3. Little Frog, All Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin copes with a good friend's passing.

The autumn leaves rustled and tumbled as the cool wind carried them across the park. Couples walked hand in hand, dogs ran wild and children jumped in neatly created piles and threw the leaves astray in fits of giggles.

But Robin didn’t want to play in the leaves. He didn’t want to do anything. Instead, he sat on a bench, wearing nothing but a scarf. He shivered as the wind tickled him, but he didn’t care.

He’d had enough. Enough of the unwanted sympathy, the grown-ups always coming into his room asking him if he wanted to talk, all the whispers, how the room always fell silent as soon as he entered. The last straw came today, when Uncle Kermit sat him down and tried to tell him of his own experiences. In a flash, he was out the door and running as fast as his small legs could carry him, ignoring Kermit’s desperate calls.

Robin heard footsteps approach and the other side of the bench suddenly felt heavy. He looked at the ground, not wanting to meet the eyes of the newcomer.

“Please, Uncle Kermit!” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t care how much you understand or how sick he was or everything’s gonna be okay! Well, it’s not okay! I may be small, but I’m not stupid or weak like you think I am.”

Robin stiffed and his vision blurred. “I know what happened and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. What else is there to say? He’s gone.”

Something inside of him tightened as he felt the weight of what he just said. “Gone. And that’s it.”

For a moment, Robin suddenly felt very lonely in the world, as if he was the only living thing left. Then, a hand reached out and touched his shoulder. A hand, not a flipper.

Tears rolled down his face as he glanced up, looking into the sad eyes of Floyd Pepper, not Kermit. For a very brief moment, the two Muppets understood each other perfectly. He buried his head into Floyd’s jacket and let himself sob as the musician rubbed his back. They stayed like this for a long time, until Kermit arrived and carried his nephew home with the uncharacteristically quiet Floyd.

-

_Jerry Nelson 1934-2012_


	4. Guilty Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scooter gets into a new show. Unfortunately, this has rather unexpected consequences.

AScooter sat stiffly, his shoulders hunched and stared intently at the screen. He didn’t register the increasing heat on his crossed legs where his laptop rested and forgot that he needed to sort out everyone’s timetable for the upcoming rehearsals. Not even the usual noisy chaos that shook the house on a daily basis affected him in the slightest. All that mattered to him now was the TV show that he was watching with every ounce of his attention.

That was, until there was a knock on the door and Kermit entered without invitation.

“Hey, Scooter?” he asked, walking over to his bed. “How are those time-”

“Shh!” Scooter hushed loudly, putting a finger to his lips with an annoyed expression. Then, just as quickly as it happened, he returned to his former state.

Kermit stopped, taken aback by the sudden interruption. Did he just shush him?! His eyes wandered over to a distantly large pile of untidy papers on his desk. By the looks of it, it hadn’t been undisturbed since he left them there this morning.

Now it was the frog’s turn to be annoyed.

“Scooter!” he yelled “What are you playing at?! I asked you to-”

“SHH!” There! He did it again! What’s gotten into him?

“Don’t you shush me!” he snapped, marching right to his bed and grabbing the back of the laptop. Scooter finally caught on what he was doing and gripped both sides.

“Kermit, wait! I can explain!” Too late. Kermit yanked the laptop free from Scooter’s grip. The gofer yelped and tumbled off the bed at the frog’s forcefulness.

“When I ask you to do something I expect you to…do…sooo…” Kermit’s words trailed off as he saw what was on screen. His eyes grew to the size of large saucers.

“Oh.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Scooter and Kermit sat on the bed with the laptop now resting on Scooter’s desk chair. They watched the episode in silence, until Scooter quietly spoke up.

“She’s a cool character,” he said, pointing to said character. 

Kermit nodded, humming in agreement.

There was another knock and Fozzie entered, his fur drenched in egg whites and yolks.

“Hey Kermit! I think I need to change my routine for this week. Camilla and her friends didn’t take my chicken jokes very well,” he said, sheepishly looking down at his current state.

Kermit waved his hand carelessly in his direction, not looking away. “Yeah, sure Fozzie. Whatever you want,” he mumbled.

Fozzie tilted his head in confusion. Usually he was more helpful than this.

“Um, what are you two doing?” he asked cautiously.

“Just watching some TV.” Scooter said casually. “Wanna watch?”

After a pause, Fozzie shrugged. “Sure! Hey scootch over, will ya?”

The two muppets shuffled to one side as the bear sat down with a loud squelch. “Huh? Well this is new! I didn’t think you were into this!”

Kermit glanced at Fozzie’s way and reeled back in disgust. “Um, Fozzie?” 

"Oh, not that there’s anything wrong with that! I’m not trying to be mean, it’s just unusual that you watch-”

“Actually, Fozzie, I was gonna ask you to take a shower.”

* * *

Half an hour later, a fresh and clean Fozzie returned to Scooter’s room, tying a new scarf around his neck. He stopped at the threshold, surprised to find that Gonzo, Rowlf and most of the Electric Mayhem had joined Kermit and Scooter on the bed, all of them huddled round the computer screen.

“Y’know, I have to admit,” Rowlf was saying. “this ain’t half bad! Almost like a normal show!”

“Yeah,” Gonzo said, nodding. “I might say it’s kinda cool!”

Everyone murmured in acknowledgement.

“Um, why were we in here again?” Zoot said to Floyd.

“Who cares?” he replied.

Fozzie approached the group and addressed Animal. “Hey, Animal. I was in that spot. Could you just-”

“MY SPOT!” Animal snarled, baring his teeth. Fozzie shrank back, timidly.

“O-okay, I’ll just sit on the floor then…”

* * *

As soon as Miss Piggy stepped one foot into the porch, she knew something wasn’t right. She got her answer as she opened the door. The place was quiet, desolate, deserted. Still a dump but very much empty.

Sheesh, you go out for one little photo-shoot…

Just then Camilla and her band of hens hurried passed, clucking amongst themselves. Piggy would have stopped them if she knew how to speak chicken, and only the blue weirdo knew how to do that.

“Oh, hi Miss Piggy!” Piggy turned around to see Janice exit the kitchen with a glass of organic juice. “So, like, how did your photo-shoot go?”

“Where the heck is everyone?!” The diva demanded, sweeping her arm to the bare rooms.

“Hmm? Oh, that! Well, the guys went to talk to Kermit about the songs for this week!”

“Oh, yeah? And, pray tell, when did they do that?” “Umm, about four hours ago! When I went downstairs, it was like, y’know, this! Not a single man in sight!”

Four hours?! Were the rest of the men in this house gone for that long too? Piggy thought to herself as she made her way to her room. Before she considered calling to police, she heard a noise from Scooter’s door. She paused, listening out for it.

There it was again! Laughter. Group laughter.

Piggy tip-toed over and rested and ear on the door. She could her hushed voices, lots of shushes and what sounded like a TV.

_Oh, well! They’re going to be like that, are they?!_

Piggy took a step back and breathed in…then screamed as loud as she could.

“HII-YAH!”

The door spilt in two and another kick sent them down with two loud thuds, breaking free from the hinges.

Piggy gasped at the sight before her. Every single man in the house was squeezed into this one room. Kermit, Scooter, Gonzo, Fozzie, Rowlf, the rest of the Electric Mayhem, the Swedish Chef, several monsters, penguins, pigs, everyone! Even Sam and Statler and Waldorf?! They didn’t even live here! They seemed to be scrunched up around a laptop on the ground.

All pairs of eyes stared at the pig in terror, like several rabbits caught in headlights.

“What the heck is going on in here?!” Piggy yelled, breaking the silence. “Do you realise how weird you all- AAHHHH!”

Piggy shrieked in terror as the whole room stampeded out of the room, trampling her along the way.

As soon as the dust settled, and she was sure there were no more feet to come, Piggy groaned and looked up. The laptop as still where they left it. Very reluctantly, she dragged herself over, grabbed it and flipped it over to her view. Now to see what all the fuss was about.

Initially, she didn’t know whether to laugh or freak out. After a long pause of gawking at the screen, she chose the latter.

“MY LITTLE PONY!?!?!?!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediately after that incident, no one choose to speak about what had happened ever again, something Piggy was very much glad about.


	5. A Very Un-American Crossover Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has an out-of-this world experience at the local park.

A beautiful sunny day and a walk in the park. What an excellent combination of two wonderful American traditions! Sam the Eagle strode proudly on the dirt path, nodding approving to no one in particular with a copy of Eagle Post under his wing.

He kept a keen eye out for a cosy spot to read his paper. He preferred that it had a little shade, a comfortable bench that did not give him splinters and was far away from annoying kids. Particularly like the one who squirted him with a water pistol last month. Oh, so berating the poor bird trying to get some peace and quiet was funny, was it?! A good talking to certainly showed him!

Sam frowned and rubbed a bump on his head at the memory. The child’s mother seemed to disagree as soon as she heard the brat bawling.

Finally, he spotted a bench that not only was empty, but was high enough for a beautiful view of the park and city! And there was shade from a tree, too! No kids, no couples, no weirdos? Could this get any better?

He sat down, rustled the pages until he found the page he was at and began to read. He was never going to get another day as suburb as this!

_Vwroom!_

Sam stiffened. He looked up, searching for the source of the noise. When he found nothing, the eagle shrugged, mumbling about it being the wind.

_VWROOM!_

He dropped the paper sharply and whirled around. There was no mistaking it this time! That was definitely not the wind!

_VWROOM!_

He knew it! There was a motorcycle gang on its way! Here to ruin his perfect day! No way was he going to let that happen!

“Right!” he boomed, hopping off the bench and ready to face his unseen enemy. “Who’s there? What do you think you’re doing?! How dare you interrupt such a peaceful- MRPH?!”

A strong wind came out of nowhere and shoved the paper into his face, rendering him blind for a few seconds. Then the noise and wind died just as quickly as it came.

Livid, Sam snatched the paper away and was ready to blow his head off to the gang. Only to be left speechless.

Instead of a bunch of bikers, there was a giant, blue box. It sat neatly about ten feet away from the eagle, tall and looming with a light bulb on the roof. The words ‘POLICE BOX: PUBLIC CALL’ bordered the top above the windows.

The door opened and small figure in a lab coat about Sam’s size flew out of the box with a yelp, landing in a heap. Sam’s blood turned cold. _Oh, no! Please don’t let it be him!_

Dr. Bunsen Honeydew stumbled and got up rather pathetically as a human man in a tweed jacket stepped out of the police box. He seemed quite young, tall and skinny with a mop of brown hair that obviously needed a proper comb. He looked even less pleased than Sam.

“Alright, Bunsen! Last stop!” he barked, in a very British accent. He bent over the scientist and pointed to the ground between them. “See this planet here? See it, yes? Stay on this planet and don’t ever, ever leave it! You are way too much of a hazard!”

“Oh, please Doctor!” Bunsen begged, dropping to his knees and grabbing the man’s trouser leg. “I didn’t mean any harm! I thought the residents of Mars would be quite interested in my strawberry generator. And I only wanted to fix your time machine! It just needed a teensy little adjustment, that’s all!”

Sam’s jaw dropped. _Time machine?!_

This only seemed to insult this Doctor person futher. “Fix it?! Okay, number one! Only I can fix the TARDIS! Number two, it didn’t need fixing to begin with! Especially not with a knitting robot and a bit of gum! And number 4- no- 3! Never offer Martians strawberries! Ever! They hate strawberries! Now if it was a Raspberry Generator that would be completely different, but never strawberry!”

“But Beakie didn’t know that! It was only an ickle accident! Be easy on the lad!”

“You two nearly started an all-out war!”

Bunsen tightened his grip. “Please, Doctor! Take me back! There’s so much that we could discover about the universe together! We could be a team!”

The Doctor forced his trouser leg back. “I’m sorry, but you’re just too dangerous! Goodbye, Bunsen. I wish you well.”

With that, the Doctor turned on his heel and strode back to the box, shutting the door behind him.

“Wait!” Bunsen cried, reaching out to the box. "What about Beaker?!”

The door reopened and a screaming Beaker flew out, colliding with Bunsen just as the door closed and the box began to hum.

_Wait what?! The box was humming?!_

Sam could only gawk with a mixture of horror and disbelief as the blue box gradually began to disappear in thin air, in time to the vwroom noise. He didn’t even register that his favourite paper was snatched away from his wings by the sudden strong wind.

It wasn’t until the two scientists suddenly appeared at his side, somehow giddy with excitement, that he regained his sense. Or what was left of it.

“Mee mee mo mee mee!”

“Sam! You won’t believe what we’ve just been through! It was the most magnificent experience of our lives, wasn’t it Beakie!”

"Oh, mee mo mee mee mee mee!”

Sam snapped his head and glared right into Bunsen’s bewildered non-existed eyes.

“I don’t care!” he growled then marched away.

 _Weirdos!_ The whole world- No! The whole universe is filled with complete _weirdos!_


	6. Just like ol’ Satchmo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lips gets to sing a bit!

The backstage was a mess, which was no surprise considering that it was always a mess. Lips carefully stepped over Baa the Sheep as he grazed on some hay, passed Kermit and Scooter at the desk and headed up the steps. He paused briefly to leaf over a pile of papers lying on the ground.

Nigel had planned a series of new pieces for the orchestra band to preform within the next few weeks and handed out music sheets for each of them. Only Lips’ copies just went walk-a-bouts. He searched the theatre thoroughly but with no luck.

The trumpet guru furrowed his eyebrows. They weren’t in here either. He continued on-wards to his dressing room, thinking to where he saw them last. Maybe he just misplaced them back home. Lips could just picture the sheets resting on the coffee table, visibly taunting his forgetfulness. Or perhaps, he thought with a shudder, Animal ate them. He sincerely hoped not. He didn’t want a repeat of when the drummer ate his mouthpiece and Floyd had to personally force his hand down his throat to retrieve it. He hadn't used it since.

Lips entered the dressing room he shared with a couple of violinists and scanned through the piles of papers on the tables. He made a metal note to have a word with his roommates about tidiness. Still, it was far superior compared to the bus, which he regularly slept in.

Downstairs, he could hear Kermit and Scooter’s voices and the radio buzzing out the local radio program, thankfully not Big Tiny Tall Saddle and his awful WHOG station. Lips rustled through a waste paper basket, just as the radio presenter announced a song which he described as ‘a little classic’. He wasn’t paying much attention until a familiar string section and guitar opening reached his ears.

 

_I see trees of green, red roses too_

_I see them bloom, for me and you_

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world._

 

Lips started a little. He knew that song! Well, everyone knew that song, but he especially knew it. No, he loved it! He used to perform it for his grandmother all the time, back when she was still around. It kick-started his interest in performing and introduced him to his inspiration and hero.

Something inside him relaxed and he was suddenly at peace. It had been a long time since he heard that song. He had forgotten how utterly brilliant it was. The lyrics, the slow, calm music! And the singing! Oh, the singing! Lips couldn’t resist and began to softly sing along.

 

_I see skies of blue and clouds of white_

_The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night_

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world._

 

His voice was raspier since the last time he spoke. But he was totally lost to notice, singing more confidently with each line and swaying in time to the music. He was even oblivious to the brief interaction between frog and gofer.

“Scooter, could you turn the radio down a little?”

“But, boss! This is a great song!”

“I know it is. That’s why I can’t concentrate.”

“Okay.”

 

_The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky_

_Are also on the faces of people going by_

 

Almost feeling like he was on a glitzy stage to a sold-out audience, Lips belted out the next lines, arms spread out wide.

 

_I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do_

_They're really saying I love you._

 

“Scooter, I thought I told you to turn that down.”

“I did!”

“Then how- wait a minute?”

Lips spotted out of the corner of his eye the song sheets he had been looking for, clearly lay neatly on the dressing table. He was too much at ease to be mad at himself.

 

_I hear babies crying, I watch them grow_

_They'll learn much more than I'll never know_

_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

 

He picked them up and shuffled through the pages, smiling as he sang the last line.

 

_Yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world. Oh, yeah._

 

“WHOA!”

Lips jumped in fright, seeing Kermit and Scooter at the doorway, mouths hanging open. His previous calmness vanished and he could feel his face growing hot.

“Lips! That was amazing!” Kermit cried, grinning broadly. “I forgot you could sing so fantastically! Say, would you like a spot on this week’s show? Honestly, it’s like Louis Armstrong came back from the dead!”

The trumpet player did not say anything. A spot on the show was a rare opportunity for the orchestra members. However, Lips shook his head, feeling deeply mortified.


	7. The Regular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Newsman has a place to go every night to spend time with a friend and relax his aching head.

The bell rang, announcing the arrival of another customer. She looked up from her paper and smiled when she saw whom it was. It vanished when she realized he was holding his head and groaning in pain.

She folded her paper and greeted him. “Good evening. The usual?”

The Muppet Newsman just managed to haul himself up on a stool. “Please, Kathy. And some ice would be great too.”

Kathy, a female monster with blue-grey fur, collected a mug and a tea bag from below the counter. She switched on a kettle and left for the kitchen, returning with an ice pack that she gave to the Newsman.

The Newsman rested the pack on the bump and the pain eased away. He let out a relieved sigh. “Ahh, that’s so much better!” he said.

The kettle whistled and Kathy made his tea (an African bush tea he was fond of) handing it to him on a saucer with a small piece of shortbread. He thanked her and took a grateful sip.

“So what was it tonight?” Kathy asked, leaning on the counter. “A ton weight? Cows? The set? Sledgehammer? An explosion?”

The Newsman swallowed a gulp of tea and shook his head, cringing when that didn’t help with his throbbing head.

“Ouch! No. The wire came up with a report about some archaeologists digging up an old ship that sunk during the seventeen-hundreds.”

Kathy raised her eyebrows in surprise. “A ship fell on you?”

“Goodness, no! I would’ve be squashed to the ground. Turns out the ship had been broken into several pieces and they were still trying to find the anchor, the mast, the stern, the nettings, the guns and…well, you can guess what happened next.”

“Dear me! Where do these things keep coming from?”

The Newsman shrugged. “Search me. I gave up on trying finding that out years ago. So what happened to you?”

Kathy fidgeted. “Erm, what are you talking about? Nothing’s happened to me.”

“So there’s no reason why you’re covered in bandages?” he asked sceptically, nodding to the ones wrapped around her head, arms and stomach underneath her apron. Kathy looked down and acted as if she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Oh, _those!_ ” she exclaimed, laughing nervously. “Yeah, that’s a funny story. I was making tablet in the kichen-” 

"Making what?!”

“Tablet! It’s a really sugary fudge from Scotland. It’s very nice! Anyway, I went to take the garbage out and severe a few customers as it was simmering. Next thing I know, the smoke alarm went off and I ran back to the kitchen and, well, it sorta burned.”

The Newsman looked around the charcoal-black diner, some places still smoking.

“ _Sorta_ burned?”

“Okay, it really burned! Whole kitchen was up in flames! Everyone was running around screaming while I tried to put out the fire! And, yeah, that’s all there is to it.”

She looked at the floor, and then perked up. “On the bright side, the kitchen still works and my lucky tail didn’t even get a starch!” Said tail popped up from behind the counter and waved at the Newsman happily.

The Newsman finished his tea. “Kathy, how is it you still own this place if you keep destroying it every day?”

Kathy crossed her arms. “I dunno. How is it that you haven’t quit your job after forty years of things falling on you?”

They sternly stared each other down for a while. Then burst out laughing, cut short as they winced in pain at their respective wounds. They spend the rest of the evening in this almost empty, sorta burned diner, sharing stories about their past accidents and their current lives, as they did every evening for many years now.

At exactly eleven, they stood outside the front doors as Kathy locked up for the night. A light breeze blew through her untidy hair on her bandaged head.

“So, same time tomorrow?” the monster asked with a knowing smile.

The Newsman returned the smile, his head free of ache. “As always.”


	8. Halloween Traditions or lack of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sccoter's wild new friend discovers Halloween in America.

Next to Beauregard, Scooter was usually the last one left in the Muppet Theatre. Most of the time, it was working on last minute bill payments and time-consuming, yet necessary paperwork for Kermit. Tonight, it was answering Miss Piggy’s fan-mail and typing up an e-mail to Craig Ferguson, requesting him to appear in the next show.

Usually Beauregard pottered about with chores, so Scooter was mostly left on his own. Tonight, however, he brought company.

“Okay, how about this one?”

Scooter looked up just as an open sketchpad thrust into his face, not for the first time that night. He took it and viewed it properly. It was obvious from the askew lines, untidy colouring and pencil smudges that it was just a rough sketch, but Scooter was impressed by how detailed and exact the fire exit looked. Even the colours matched perfectly, an achievement considering Scooter could only find children’s crayons from Bobby Benson’s room.

“It’s great, Gary. It looks exactly the same as real life.”

Gary grinned impishly. “I thought so,” he said, smugly. He was a humanoid-like person about Scooter’s height with untidy blonde hair. He usually wore sunglasses, even inside, which didn’t bother Scooter as a few of the Muppets did that too.

Scooter chuckled, sealing the last of the envelopes and packing away his laptop. “Well, that’s me for tonight,” he said. “Let’s head.”

Beauregard, who was passing by with a mop on his shoulder, turned to them, confused. “What’s wrong with my head?”

Gary bellowed excessively with laugher, clapping Beauregard on the back. “Ah, you crack me up, Beau!” he exclaimed, then thundered down the steps to the exit.

“Oh, um, you’re welcome?” Beau said, puzzled. Scooter shook his head and patted him reassuringly.

“Goodnight, Beau. See ya later,” he said and followed Gary.

Ever since Scooter began studying Theatre Arts at the local university, Gary was the first to befriend him. He was an art student studying there who originally from South Africa, made clear by his distinctive accent. An excitable individual with a hint of a mad glint behind his shades, he would’ve fitted well with the rest of the Muppets, if it weren’t for his artwork (his “true calling” as he liked to call it). He was one of those people who could not sit still for a millisecond, which was why Scooter got him to explore the theatre and do some sketches while he worked. Gary had taken the challenge as eagerly as a five-year-old.

They walked through the dark streets, with Gary talking animatedly about the different medias he used in his modules while Scooter listened patiently with his hands in his pockets. It slightly baffled him how Gary could contain so much energy, but it also intrigued him.

They passed several houses and shops, decorated to the max with glowing ghosts, ghoulies, skeletons, cobwebs, craved pumpkins, and many other oddities that were only acceptable once a year. Some especially over-the-top ones caught Gary’s attention, enough for him to stop and stare. Scooter, noticing the sudden quiet, looked over.

“Gary? Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Naw, I’m fine. It’s just…” he paused. “Wow, you guys really take Halloween seriously!”

Scooter smirked. “Of course we do! We don’t get many holidays here, and when they come, boy, do we go _all_ out!”

Gary turned to him. His mouth turned in a sceptical manner. “But it’s three weeks away, and look at this!”

He threw his arms toward a house, whose decretives had gone on a more original route. A giant purple spider hung from the top left window. Next to it, two mean eyes with spiral pupils rested on the roof of the porch, with pointy teeth stuck on the top and bottom, giving the impression that the house had turned into a Muppet Monster.

“Hey, I think that’s Peter’s house!” Scooter said.

“Who?” “He’s a friend of Walter’s. Anyway, I thought you were into creative stuff, Mister Art Student!”

“I am! It’s just, it seems a bit much. Besides, I’m not really used to Halloween decorations back home.”

It took a second for Scooter to realise what Gary just said. “Wha- Gary? Are you saying that you don’t celebrate Halloween?!”

Gary shrugged. “Not really. We get the occasional costume party, but it’s not really a big deal in South Africa. I remember this one time when some kids tried to make it a thing, but it didn’t work- Hey, Scoot! You okay?”

Scooter had been gaping at him for a few seconds. He then recovered and put an arm around Gary’s shoulder.

“Gary, you have much to learn and we only have three weeks! Get a pen and listen closely!” he said, in an utterly business-like tone.

They continued the trek home, the roles now switched, with Scooter talking extensively about Halloween Traditions and costumes ideas while Gary listened closely, making notes.


	9. Thankful Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeeter gets more than just the holiday spirit this Christmas.

The taxi pulled up at the sound of her distinctively piercing whistle, just as her cell phone rang. 

“M’rello?”

Skeeter paused, tapping her foot and listening to the other end, frowning.

“Oh, you again. Look, I have the list here in my hand with everything ticked off! What? The heck is that supposed to mean? Uh-huh. Yes, I checked everything with a pen, unless you scribbled all over the list before you gave it to me! Hey, don’t be so touchy! It’s not my fault you forgot to do your Christmas shopping, nerd!”

She continued to argue down the phone as the driver, a turtle in a cap, loaded the mountain of colourful boxes and bags into the taxi in a painstakingly slow manner. The first snowflakes of the night were carried swiftly by the cold wind, blowing astray her plaid scarf and orange dreadlocks. She tucked the dreads behind her ear, ignoring the glares from passing shoppers. Scooter had given her a particularly long list of presents, most of which were taking up the sidewalk. It didn’t help that it was Christmas Eve and the streets were full of people who, like Scooter, had left present shopping at the last minute.

“Yes, I got Fozzie’s Stewart Francis DVD, Lew’s fish-patterned paper towels, Walter’s suit, Floyd’s guitar pick and Gonzo’s chicken pin-up calendar. I got everything. I repeat, ev-ry-thing! What? Miss Piggy? Oh, no I couldn’t get that new perfume. I was already over budget. Calm down, I just bagged a fluffy blanket. It’s more practical at this time of year. Believe me, when I spent last Christmas in the Artic, a snuggie was the best luxury I had. Urgh, I know we’re not in the North Pole, stupid! Well, I don’t care if you get broken ribs for life, she’ll get her present and like it! Look, I gotta go! I’m causing a traffic jam here. Bye!”

Skeeter hung up and began helping the turtle with the load. _Geez, you come back from the Amazon for one little break…_

Eventually, after some shoving of presents, diverting of traffic, yelling at the turtle to hurry it up and throwing insults to any complaining pedestrians, all was calmer and there was one present left. Skeeter picked up the bag containing Miss Piggy’s blanket and let out a hefty sigh. She had dealt with booby trap filled temples less stressful than this. Now, she was ready to return to the Boarding House where the spare mattress in Scooter’s room was calling to her.

The turtle, though slow, was gentlemanly and opened the door to the passenger seat for her. Skeeter nodded her thanks and set her foot in.

“Spare change, sir? God bless.”

The voice was deep and rough around the edges, though warm and friendly like a Christmas fire. It caught Skeeter’s ear and she turned around, surprised to see it was from the least likely person.

A beggar, dressed in a tattered jacket and old jeans, sat on some steps with his hands stretched out in alms.

She watched him shiver and ask anyone who walked near him for money only to be silently dejected for a few seconds, then turned back to the monster pile of presents tied down to the taxi. In an instant, Skeeter felt a pang of guilt in the pit her stomach. Suddenly her stress-filled day didn’t seem so bad.

She addressed the turtle, “Sorry, could you wait here for a sec? Thanks.” Without waiting for an answer, Skeeter sped off towards the beggar. “Hey, you on the steps!”

He looked up in surprise. “Er, yes?”

Butterflies flitted around inside her, but she didn’t hesitate. She held up the bag, trying to ignore the cheap liquor scent he wafted.

“Here, I figured you’ll need this more than I do. Sorry it’s pink.”

After a slight awkward hesitation, the beggar took the bag and pulled out the fuzzy material in awe. For a moment, he was gobsmacked. “I- thank you!” he gasped. “I haven’t received any kindness like this in years.”

Trying not to show that she was blushing, Skeeter dug out her pockets and dropped a few quarters at his feet. “Yeah, well, this is Christmas after all.”

He wrapped the blanket around himself, looked very strange in hot pink but very happy. “I can’t thank you enough, miss.” he said, grinning. “God bless and Merry Christmas.”

Relieved, Skeeter smiled back. “Yeah, you too.”

With that, she walked back to the awaiting cab and waved goodbye. On the way back home, she rested her head against the window, watching the lights whizz by with a somewhat warm contentment replacing her previous guilt. For the first time in her life, it felt like a real Christmas.

Now, she just hoped Miss Piggy would forgive Scooter for not getting her a present… 


	10. The Diva (it's not the pig)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rizzo doesn't share food.

"Alright, then. That's three lamb Kormas-"

"But I wanted a Vindaloo!"

"Not now, Robin. Ten Bhunas and eight Jalfrezis, both vegetarian-"

"Nine!"

"Sorry, Rowlf. Nine Jalfrezis, eleven Sag Loos-"

"Hey, Kermit? Camilla's wondering if they come with a side order of chicken feed?"

"Erm, I don't think so Gonzo but I could ask. Now where was I?"

"Hey, boss! I called the JugHuggers and they all want beef Madras. Sweetums and Thog are still stuck in traffic but they said they want Pasandas. I'm still waiting on a reply from Lips, but my friend Gary just texted. He wants a Vindeloo."

Kermit's face scrunched up at the thought of Scooter's crazy artist friend on Vindaloo, but wrote down the additions nonetheless.

"Good grief. Ok, all those and three dozen popadoms, naan breads and bowls of rice. Sound good to everyone?"

"That's great, Kermit!"

"Thank you, Kermie dear!"

"Right on!"

"What, only three dozen?"

"Are the ingredients, like, organic?"

"Mee mee moo murry!"

"Why can't I have a Vindaloo?"

"Kermit, must we go for Indian? I'm sure the pizza place is more American."

Kermit ignored any last minute complaints and called for quiet in the packed living room. "Okay, everyone quiet! Now apart from Lips, is there anyone we've forgotten about?"

"Hey, what's goin' on in here!"

Gonzo jumped when Rizzo seemingly popped out of nowhere. "Rizzo! Where've you been, buddy?"

"Ah, I had a date but that possum chick stood me up so left early. Anyways, what's everyone doin' in here? Where's dinner? I'm starved!"

"Mmm, no dinner tonight Ritzo!" Pepe explained. "The oven broke down again, ho'kay?"

"Urgh, great. So we'll just use the microwave, no problem!"

"No can do, Rizzo." Kermit added as he checked over the list of orders for the tenth time. "It tried to eat Beaker and we had to get Animal to chase it away." He narrowed his eyes at the rat. "Also, a certain group of rodents cleaned out the kitchen last night and now we have no food."

Rizzo huffed. "Ain't my fault my folks gotta eat!"

"I've asked Skeeter to go shopping tomorrow, ("Humph!" Skeeter grumped) but for tonight, we're ordering a takeaway from the new Indian. Apparently the owner is a cousin of a friend of the Newsman."

Kermit paused and glanced over to the Newsman, who was sitting squished between the Mutations. "Assuming he's not as destructive as your friend, right?"

The Newsman grunted in discomfort. "I never made any such promise."

Kermit sighed and turned back to Rizzo. "So is there anything-"

"Beef Bhuna, lamb Dupiaza, prawn Phaal, egg-fried rice, portion of fries and ten popadoms!" Rizzo cut in without hesitation.

"Sheesh. Okay and we're just gonna lay it out on the table so everyone can-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rizzo exclaimed, suddenly offended. "Who said anything about sharing, huh?!"

"Well-"

"Why is it every time we do take out, no-one never just eats their own food that they ordered themselves? Why do we have to share?!"

"Erm, because it's nice." Walter pointed out. Rizzo rounded on him.

"Nice?! _Nice?!_ No, it is not nice! You wanna know why? Because I guarantee that three people have ordered a Korma, am I wrong Kermit?"

"No, Rizzo you're not. But-"

"Exactamondo! And if you ask me, Kormas are stupid! I won't touch 'em. But I already know that Zoot's wanting my Dipiaza already, right Zoot?"

Rizzo then scurried over to the already taken aback Zoot and jumped on his chest, grabbing his shirt and looking him straight in the shades.

"Have you even _thought_ about my Dipiaza?" he said in a low voice.

Zoot gulped. "Er, yeah."

"But it's _my_ Dipiaza!" Rizzo cried, dramatically throwing his hands in the air. "That's why I ordered it! It's like when I went to the pizza place with the folks and everyone's dipping into my pasta and saying, 'Oh Rizzo, your pasta is soo good!' YES! I KNOW IT IS BECAUSE IT'S _MY_ PASTA!"

Gonzo walked over, lifted Rizzo off Zoot and set him to the ground. He put a hand his shoulder. "Hey, calm down buddy-"

"No, I've had it!" Rizzo screeched, slapping Gonzo's hand away. "In fact, I'm out! Forget about me! I'm ordering my own!"

With that said, Rizzo stormed out of the living room. Everyone was so deathly quiet after his outburst that a few people jumped when Scooter's phone bleeped.

"Oh, that's Lips! He wants a veggie Patia."

Just then, Rizzo popped his head back in the room. "I wanna Patia too, Kermit!"


	11. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lips needs to say something to Zoot. What could it be?

**Attempt 1**

"There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…" Lips began, wavering.

Zoot raised his hand before Lips could say any more and coughed. That Christmas sing-a-long really got to his throat.

They stood out in the porch, the night sky bright from a full moon. It was still quite late, most still up and chattering noisily inside the farmhouse. The saxophonist had a feeling that Ma Bear would send them all to bed very soon, didn’t matter that most of them were adults.

“Sorry,” he said, sure that his throat was properly cleared. “What were you gonna say?”

Lips stared at him, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Err, you ok?”

Whatever it was, Lips snapped out of it and shook his head. “Sorry, yeah I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, I have- I mean, lately I’ve been- I’ve kinda-”

He stopped speaking and stared at Zoot again. Zoot shifted his feet, not sure where he was going with this. “You’ve kinda what?”

“Boys!”

The two of them jumped. Mrs Bear stuck her head out the window. “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch a death! Get to bed quickly now, or Santa won’t visit.”

**Attempt 2**

"I’m not cut out for this! Well, er,” Zoot scratched the back of his neck, figuring out the best words. “What I mean to say is…I’m…not really…I just…”

He paused, glancing up at Lips and suddenly wished he didn’t. Heartbreak didn’t even come close to describe the expression of the trumpeter’s face. More like…utter devastation.

Zoot chewed his lip briefly. _C’mon, man. You can do this._

He placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Look, I’m flattered. I really am. But my barn doors just don’t swing that way. I, er, hope we can still be friends, though.”

That didn’t seem to make things better. Lips looked down at his feet and hugged himself, perhaps from the cold of the back allyway. The wind blew and rustled his yellow, fluffy hair…not like Zoot noticed this or anything. “

Yeah,” Lips mumbled, so low that he almost didn’t hear it. “Sure we can.”

His sad tone sounded less reassuring and now Zoot was beginning to wonder if he made the right decision.

Just then, the back door swung open and Janice ran out, her suit battered and crumbled. “Oh my gosh, _there_ you are!” she exclaimed, frantically. “Come on! We gotta get on stage quick. Miss Piggy’s had a rull fit and karate chopped half the dancing ensemble!”


	12. Where the **** did that clown come from?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, Muppets swearing.

Lips smacked Zoot on the arm. “Language,” he warned. “Robin’s right over there!”

“Sorry,” Zoot said, rubbing where Lips had hit him. “But I swear he wasn’t there before!”

They watched from the wing as the chaos ensued on stage. A moment ago, Miss Piggy had been singing yet another sappy Celine Dion cover. The next, an actual clown had popped out of Rowlf’s piano and began singing Top Banana. Now the Diva pig chased him in circles, her hair and dress on disarray, as the clown danced around the stage.

Finally, Lips shook his head exasperated. “I don’t know anymore. I’m going to get a burger. You coming?”

“Absolutely.”


	13. Wedding Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mindless fluff after all that mindless sadness from earlier.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s welcome to happy couple for their first dance!"

Lips blushed a little as Zoot led him to the dance floor and everyone they loved whooped and hollered at them. He knew this was his wedding but still, being the centre of attention was a little much for him. And it was only for one day.

Zoot turned, clasped his left hand over his and rested his other on Lips’ hip. He smiled sweetly and Lips’ heart leaped just as it did the first time he laid eyes on the saxophonist.

He was barely aware of the music playing something slow and jazzy, the spotlight hot against his face, or even Zoot leading him to a slow sway. All that mattered to him was that Zoot, his husband, was looking at him like he hoped he would for years.

Lips pressed closer to him as they moved together, burying his head against his shoulder. He heard Zoot sigh into his hair and it was then that he actually listened to what Johnny was singing;

_My heart is sad and lonely_

_For you I sigh, for you dear only_

_Why haven’t you seen it_

_I’m all for you body and soul_

Something deep in Lips’ chest clenched. He had a sudden flashback to years ago, when the lone trumpeter tried to play this very song without breaking down over what he thought was an unrequited love.

Zoot moved his head a little. “You alright?” He whispered. “You look like you’re crying”

Lips sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Sorry. It’s just that the last time I played this song, I kept thinking about you. I really missed you.”

Zoot gave him an understanding look and bumped his forehead affectionately. “Well, you ain’t gonna miss me again, Floffyhead,” he reassured him, making the statement much clearer by tracing the ring around Lips’ middle finger. Then he chuckled lightly. “Funny. The last time I played this song, my reed got superglued to my mouth. And I was stuck to the piano. They had to get me off with a giant spatula.”

Lips huffed a laugh and kissed him, slow and sweetly while pretending not to hear Floyd’s wolf whistling. He had honestly never heard a more romantic story.


	14. Let's Boogaloo!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered why The Electric Mayhem weren't in the Carol Burnett episode?

“No!”

“Like, No way!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Uhh..”

“Absolutely and positively not!”

Gonzo’s jaw dropped. “What?! This is going to be terrific for the show! How could you say no?!”

Floyd moved a step closer so that they were nose to nose. “Like this. N.O!”

“But I thought you liked dances!” Gonzo whined, pushing Floyd away. “Zoot, you used to do it all the time back at the start!”

“I’m not twirling around cracking stupid jokes with someone I don’t know for half an hour,” Zoot said, tiredly. “

But that’s the thing! You’ll be playing the music, not dancing! Here, I have the music sheets!” He quickly handed them they sheets and each band member looked over them. Gonzo watched with some hope as they shared a glance between them.

Finally, Dr. Teeth spoke, “All those in favour of playing this lame gig for tonight’s show, say ‘Minnie the Moocher’!”

Silence.

“And all those in favour of spending this beautiful evening jamming at Schotsky’s Bar, say ‘Let’s Boogaloo!” “

LET’S BOOGALOO!”

With that, and the music papers thrown in the air in their wake, the band turned their heels and headed down the steps, careful the mind the dancers on the way. Even Delores, the trumpet girl, followed suit.

Gonzo felt someone pat on his back. “Sorry, Gonzo,” Rowlf said. “But good luck with the Dance Marathon. And finding Animal a partner.”

“What?!” Gonzo exclaimed but the dog was already out the door.


	15. Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unhappy aftermath of meeting with old friends for Trans!Janice.

The wind atop the rooftop whistled around them in the silence that followed. It was early evening, the sun just setting with an orange haze across the city.

Janice sniffed, raising her head up high in an attempt to look like she didn’t care. Which she didn’t. Not at all. Well, not really. Ok, maybe a little.

But then the image of the disgusted faces of The Sunshine Seeds band and horrible words they said flashed before her eyes and she could no longer hold it in. She choked and sobbed into her hands. Who was she kidding? Of course she cared.

“Hey,” Floyd said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to yell.”

"No, it’s not that!” Janice wailed. “It wasn’t just their words! You didn’t see the way they looked at me when I told them! Now they’ll never let us, like, jam with them again and it’s all my fault!”

“Easy now, mama,” Floyd said, his hand squeezing. “You just thought you can trust them and I don’t blame you. They were cool cats, but obviously they were never. You have no one to blame but them for being squares, man.”

Janice wiped her eyes, covering her fingers with runny mascara but she did not care. “But they were my friends. I thought I could totally trust them with this after all these years.”

She passively allowed Floyd to embrace her and she felt a little safer.

“Those ain’t your friends anymore, baby. They’re waiting back home.”


	16. Unlikely Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The muppets do some spring cleaning...in summer.

Spring had been very busy for The Muppets this year, what with a new movie out and travelling the globe for promotions and premieres. It was for that reason that spring cleaning came much later than usual for the boarding house.

This was why, as soon as the fuss died down, Kermit ordered everyone to pull their weight this year. No matter how they all begged and whined and groaned and, in the case of a few rats, bribed. Everyone had to do their bit, no excuses.

About a couple of hours in, however, Kermit was beginning to regret that decision. It was a scorching hot day. Pepe had grumbled how they were stuck in a stuffy house when it was a gorgeous seventy degrees out. Piggy was worse, over-dramatizing how heavy a glass cleaner was and claiming to already have a heat stroke. Fozzie had gone as far as moving a large amount of books out of his and Rowlf’s room, then promptly took a nap on top of them. Gonzo had made a giant chicken sculpture in the garden out of his, Bunsen’s, Zoot’s and Beauregard’s junk, claiming it to be a present for some guy called Dave. Crazy Harry’s idea of spring cleaning had involved putting soap in his explosives. Well, at least the penguins were having fun soap skating around the living room…

Kermit sighed, wiping sweat from his brow (which was strange as he was a frog and shouldn’t sweat) and glaring at the overfilled attic. The heat was worse in here, with no windows to open. The dust was thick in the air, floating in the light bulb’s glow.

“Okay, Robin,” he said, tugging at his collar. “You go find your stuff and throw down to Beau any junk you don’t want anymore. I’ll start by sorting out these old photos.”

Robin looked at him tiredly, but the little frog gave him a fond salute. “You got it, Uncle Kermit!”

As he hopped away, Kermit pulled up an old stool and rummaging around the boxes marked photos. In these moments he found the heat and the ruckus downstairs more tolerable. He spent the next half hour flipping over photo after photo of days gone by, occasionally pausing at a few and smiling. Most were of their days of the Muppet Show still airing in which a guest star would pose with their favourite Muppet. Others were various personal one with him when he was in the Frog scouts or back in the swamp. A few were quite funny picture of his co-workers in their younger days. Boy, Fozzie really did have a terrible 80s haircut.

With two piles set at his side, Kermit cracked his fingers and began on the second box…and froze. He stared at the top photo, his eyes going wide. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked again yet his mind could not fathom what he was seeing. He picked it up, just to convince himself it was real, when a slip of paper fell on his lap. He squinted at it, reading the bold.

 _“’Masters of Science in Media Arts and Science’?”_ he read aloud, aghast. He looked from the photo to the certificate and back again. “It can’t be.”

“Hey, Green Stuff!” Kermit jumped, turning around to see Floyd climbing up the ladder followed by Janice. The Hipster was looking worse for wear, his shirt patchy with sweat and his hair loose and wild.

“Floyd, I told you!” Kermit said, frowning. “No jam sessions until you’ve taken the first load of recycling to the centre.”

“Done that,” Floyd answered, dabbing his neck with his collar. “We just came up here to give you the load-down on Gonzo’s little art show.”

“Fer sure,” Janice added. “He’s, like, gone too far. I think Zootie’s this close to going kablamo on him after Gonzo took his old records and glued them onto his-”

The blonde stopped mid-sentence, the colour draining from her cheeks. Kermit realised she noticed what he was looking at and he coughed. “Uh, this is yours, yeah?”

“What’s hers?” Floyd asked, peering at the items Kermit held up. This did not seem to make it any better. Floyd blinked, jaw hanging open at the image before him and Janice looked like she wanted the floor to give way beneath her and carry her to the earth’s centre.

“Is- is that you?” Floyd whispered, his voice faltering.

Janice stammered. “I- I- honey, I can explain this! I was just- I mean, it wasn’t rully my idea, my mother wanted me to go but I totally didn’t and then there was this big fight and she brought up my father and then I had to go but I rully couldn’t get my braces off oh my gosh I look horrible what was I thinking!? I shouldn’t have gone, it was so-”

“Fantastic!”

Janice stared. “Huh?”

Kermit gawked. “Huh?”

Robin, way at the other end of the attic, poked his head out of a box of stuffed toys. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” Floyd exclaimed, grinning and snatching the photo and certificate from Kermit. “Fantastic! Just look at that! I knew you were smart, but man, are you smart or are you smart!” He had an excited glint in his eye Kermit had never seen before and it seemed to be shining especially for Janice.

“You- you don’t think I’m square?” Janice said, still dumbfounded.

“Square? HA! Yeah, a little but ya completed college! Man, me and Animal didn’t even last the first week! I’m proud of ya, baby!” He picked her up and kissed her on the cheek, making her squeak in surprise. “C’mon, we gotta show this to everyone!” With that, the two musicians rushed out the attic excitedly, Janice now relieved of all embarrassment and giggling madly at Floyd’s enthusiasm.

The baffled silence that followed was broken by Robin. “What the heck was that?”

Kermit shook his head, smiling broadly. “That, Robin, was what I call a truly loving relationship.”

Robin scrunched up his face in disgust. “Mushy stuff,” he said, and promptly buried himself back into the stuffed toys again.


	17. Unforeseen Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoot unwillingly does the Ice Bucket Challenge

Zoot was napping on the porch bench when Floyd approached him. He couldn’t see it was him, being far too relaxed to open his eyes, but he needn’t as he was way more than familiar with his friend’s distinctive chuckle.  

“Hey, man,” he said. “Mind if I borrow ten bucks from you?”  

This should have been the point where Zoot thought this was suspicious. Usually it was him asking money from Floyd. But as it so happens, he did have money on him so he slipped a ten dollar bill out from his hat and held it to Floyd’s direction with a mumbled, “Sure.”

  Floyd took it and Zoot settled back, thinking that was it. But then he heard some heavy sloshing noises and Floyd grunting, “Alright, now say the first name that comes into your head.”  Now, this is where Zoot got suspicious but he still didn’t lift his head."

“Why?”

  “Just do it.”  

“Er, Nigel. Now, wh-”  

SPLASH!  

* * *

A horrified scream and a clang of a bucket reached the living area, where Kermit and Scooter were working on the house’s finances.

  “What was that?” Kermit said, looking up in the direction of the noises.  

Before Scooter could say anything to that, Floyd skidded into the room and slammed a ten onto the table.  

“HeygivethistoRobinformeIwasneverhereokbye!” he rushed and was gone just as quickly as he arrived, laughing his head off.  

“Wait, Floyd! What are you-”  

“PEPPER!”  

The sudden roar made the two jump, half expecting it to come from Sweetums or one of the other monsters. Instead, in stormed a peculiar being with a bucket for a head and a body wearing what looked like Zoot’s drenched clothes. He bumped clumsily into walls and furniture, still yelling furiously.

“WHERE IS HE?! I’LL KILL THAT SON OF A- BWAHHHGH!”  

He slipped and went flying out the door, an almighty crash following a moment later.  

"Wow, Zoot! That was amazing!” they heard Gonzo cry out. “Right into the fireplace! Do you mind if I borrow that for my act?”  

Kermit and Scooter caught each other’s eye and then shrugged. At least it would be for a good cause.


End file.
